


Reflections Storm

by jkkstna



Category: Original Work
Genre: Brazil, Other, Psychological Drama, References to Drugs, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:42:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27772462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jkkstna/pseuds/jkkstna
Summary: Alex’s life was doomed after the accident which killed her parents when she was only 12 years old. Without any relatives, the girl went to an orphanage and stayed there till her adulthood, so the owners threw her on the streets, people didn’t want to adopt a girl at such an age as 12, 13, 14, 15…Some years later, living in a small apartment in the outskirts of the Brazilian megacity that never sleeps, and working with telemarketing, she had already accepted the idea that, in her life, things always can get worse, and it does.All alone, the woman faces, as a million of people, a new challenge: a global pandemic which demands social isolation. She tried to prepare herself for every kind of situation, she just didn't think that would fall in love with a person made by her own mind.
Relationships: solo - Relationship
Comments: 1





	Reflections Storm

**Author's Note:**

> TW: intrusive thoughts; eating disorders; suicide; ilicit drugs

Maybe, somewhere, for someone, waking up everyday, having a routine, living, might be pleasant. Just maybe. 

I would like to be at this place, in the ideal world. It seems something so distant, especially now. I’m unemployed. The money I have been keeping won’t take much long, I have no idea of how I will pay my bills. And, even though it sounds crazy, it’s true: I don’t wanna die. So, I won’t risk everything just by going out in the middle of a pandemic. In spite of the fact that I feel I’m gonna die anyway, leaving or not, I’d rather avoid that kind of situation. 

Making a huge effort, I’m trying to enjoy my own company… I feel as if I can get insane at any moment. 

Before this new quarantine, my life wasn’t the best, but it surely wasn’t one of the worst. I have this black hole inside of me, but things were okay, after all. Too good to be true. 

All day, I just looked for some job on the internet. I have been fasting for a while, without any desire for eating. Even if I did want to eat, I wouldn’t be able to keep the food inside of me, completely distressed. 

I’m not that kind of person who enjoys going out with friends, and having parties… Honestly, it bores me, I don’t have anyone. I think the times I talked with my boss and when I was cursed by someone while I was working were the times that I have the most human contact in my life. I don’t have anybody to talk to. Everything was always sadly silent. When I got home, at 2 am, after a good time drinking some cheap vodka by myself in front of a not-known building, it was completely silent. 

It’s depressing doesn’t having even a plant to sustain a monologue. I know that talking to a plant and talking by myself it's the same shit, but I refuse to give my neighbors another reason to know me as the “crazy young lady”. What if they think I am, I don’t know, talking with some spirit? I do care about what they think or say. I also know they don’t have to think anything about someone they barely know the name of, but I can’t avoid crying when they left notes calling me names that I’m not even brave enough to quote. 

_ Maybe I am crazy, maybe they are right.  _

_ Would it be better if I killed myself? Ripped my wrist with some knife, or hanged me by the neck somewhere in this house?  _

The idea of simply don’t existing anymore always confused my head. Your heart stops beating, the blood stops running in your veins, the organs don’t work. All of this suddenly. It’s scary to think that I can be dead at any moment, at the same time, the idea of rest eternally is comforting. Rest, this is what I need.   
  


I got up from the mattress, and fell down again. My sight became blurred, and then, dark; I felt my body falling and reaching the surface under me.

Woke up, searching for my cell phone and looking for the hours. I fainted for 10 minutes. Got up more calmly this time, being careful to don’t fall again. When I could stand up without much perturbation provoked by my own body, I went straight to the kitchen. 

More than 10 minutes ran away, I was eating my ramen yet from the pan, holding it with a dishcloth, avoiding burning myself. The only noise inside the house was the sound of my chewing. 

With an unfortunate frequency, my nights get noisy with sounds from the outside of the apartment, from the streets. It’s common to hear fights, shoots, police officers. 

**_One_ ** **_month later_ **

My routine is full of nothing. I wake up, look at the news on my mobile, check my email, hoping I get some job, use a pack or two of cocaine, and that’s all. Sometimes I cry, and also have the times I spend the whole day lying on the mistress. The huge number of times I run to the bathroom to throw up nothing more than gastric juice is scary. I was losing weight too fast, a bit skinnier every day. My neighbors must be happy to see me weaker and weaker. They must even imagine me, dying with a dry body, the skin directly in the bones. 

It’s been more than a month I’m locked. Ignoring the times I look through my window and find that old lady from the next building staring at me in the most creepy way possible, when I look myself in the mirror is the only time I see a human who’s not on the little screen of my phone. 

No, I have not talked to plants yet. By the way, I don’t have any plants, it would be too much responsibility. There are times I can’t even get up from the mistress in the room of my apartment where I sleep and stay 24/7. 

I feel useless. Keep wondering what my parents would think about me if they were still alive. Would they be proud of me? Proud of their daughter? Of course not, it’s not necessary to think to answer this. 

Every time I can’t sleep, I stay laid with my belly up, looking at the sealing and thinking how it would be if that accident hadn't happened. My parents were amazing. Would I be in this same situation? Using my money to sustain an addiction? Afraid of buying a cactus because it is too much responsibility? For God’s sake, a cactus! Would I be a bit happier? I’m sure the answer to the last question is yes. 

But in the end, why does it matter thinking about this right now? They are  _ dead _ , because of me. They are gone forever.

_ My fault. _

_ I should have died with them. _

_ I should have died, not them.  _

_ No, I don’t want to die.  _

I feel something on my face, wet. Tears, I’m crying. I can feel them running down my cheeks… Pathetic. 

I roll over the mistress, lying on my stomach. I  _ have to _ sleep.

_ Sleep. _

_ Sleep. _

_ Sleep. _

_ Sleep… _

_**Two months later.** _

I’ve bought a cactus. His name is Sir Prickly, very creative, I know. We’ve been together for a few weeks, and until now, everything is fine. I place Sir Prickly on the window every morning and take him from there when the Sun’s down. He has been my family lately, but yet, no, I don’t talk with the cactus...Out loud. 

Nothing more than the new lodger has changed. Same routine, same empty. I miss when I used to go to work. Got early in the bus stop to catch the back seats of the vehicle. I used to sit and look at the world passing by through the window. Hurry people, busy. Friends laughing, couples kissing… I was just a viewer, would always be. 

As another upsetting normal day, I stood up, I was sitting in front of the chair where Sir Prickly is every night. Got my tower that was hanged in the window and started to undress myself. Shower time. 

I didn’t even cover my body with the tower, just went to my bathroom. Right when I pushed out the door that was barely closed, I saw my reflection in the mirror. I was pitiful. 

My hair, dry and full of knots. My skin, dehydrated and pale. Looking at my face, the deep dark circles around my dead eyes, the bones of my cheeks highlighted with my weight loss. There was a bit of dried blood in my nose, my lips completely crumbly. What happened to me? 

I have never been a vanity person, but I have always tried to keep a good look. That was lost too. 

While I was staring at me, the tower slipped from my right shoulder. I crouched down and got the cloth, but when I put my eyes back on my reflection, something was different. 

It wasn’t  _ me  _ there… I mean, yes, it was  _ my _ reflection, but  _ I  _ was completely different, as when I used to get dressed fancier for some event. 

My hair was combed back with hair spray, the strands fully aligned.  _ I  _ was using… makeup? Wow, it has been so long since the last time I used a lip balm. The dark circles I saw minutes before when I was looking at myself weren’t there anymore. The reflection was using a black suit which I keep at the bottom of my dresser.

The woman was staring at me with a serious countenance, not as if she was angry, or something like that, just wasn't showing any expression. She leaned her head, looked at me from the bottom to the top, smiled and, suddenly, disappeared. Now, my crashed image is back, but, at this time, I was carrying a surprised look, including wide eyes and an open mouth. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading :)


End file.
